The Hunter
by PathlessSpore
Summary: Nylora had always been different, an undeclared outcast even amongst her peers of Demon Hunters. But when trailing the destruction the Falling Star left in it's wake and the events that follow, she may learn more about herself than she already knew, and of the father she never met. And perhaps find peace in her own tormented soul, still haunted by her failures.
1. Bleeding Out

The Hunter  
Diablo 3 Fanfiction  
Adventure/Family/Hurt/Comfort  
Imperius/OC  
Chapter 1  
Bleeding out

_I'm bleeding out_  
_So if the last thing that I do_  
_Is bring you down_  
_I'll bleed out for you_

_So I bare my skin_  
_And I count my sins_  
_And I close my eyes_  
_And I take it in__  
_

_Bleeding out - Imagine Dragons_

* * *

Nylora watched as her village burned; flames sprang and danced their way from house to house, blazing brightly against the starry night. She heard the screams of terror as horrifying creatures chased and killed people. She could only kneel there in the dirt, shocked at the sight before her. Blood swept down the street, broken bodies strewn across everywhere, and laying before her, her mother coughed and sputtered.

Cassandra Everglean gave her daughter a smile, reaching a hand to touch her face tenderly,

"Nylora," she whispered through the blood in her mouth. The little girl with golden eyes watched as life slowly faded from her mother. One last order left the woman's mouth in a fleeting whisper before she died, "Run, Nylora."

Numbly, she did as she was ordered, crawling to her feet so she could turn and sprint down the road. She dodged past the creatures, black hair flying in the wind as she ran past the last of the houses and down the road. Behind her, the village burned with the screams still echoing out into the night.

Nylora didn't know for how long she ran. Her legs burned as her lungs strained to take in air, sweat beaded her forehead as she continued on, clutching the intricate medallion around her neck for the strength to keep going. Eventually, however, her energy gave out and she stumbled to her knees panting for air. Tired and beaten she remembered lying down on her side before succumbing to blessed sleep.

* * *

When Nylora woke she half expected to wake up dead, but instead something warm covered her small form. She stilled as best she could, straining her ears as she made out the sounds of the small crackle of a campfire. Above it, she could hear someone taking calm and slow breaths.

Carefully she cracked open her eyes and beheld the sigh of a middle aged man sitting opposite of her across the fire. His green eyes bore into the dirt for moment before he sensed her stare. Quickly he flicked his gaze up to her with a smile. He had shapely and grizzled face, stubble decorating most of his chin. Obvious laugh lines outlined his eyes and mouth, indicating that this was a man who liked to smile and talk,

"You hungry?" he asked in a surprisingly deep yet soft-spoken tone. Nylora eyed the stranger; saying nothing as she slowly sat up. She clutched the blanket around her, as if trying to shield herself from this man. He chuckled a bit, tearing his eyes away from her so he could dig around in his pack. Not a moment later he tossed her a few pieces of dried meat, to which she deftly caught in her hands.

Not realizing how hungry she had been, the need for food quickly took over. As she ate, the cloaked stranger watched,

"Do you have a name?"

Nylora finished eating; wiping her mouth as she once again eyed the stranger in complete silence. The man suddenly threw up his hand in mock defense, his green eyes dancing brightly at her,

"Whoa now, little one," he said with a laugh, "Slow down, there's no need to say so much at once."

She felt her mouth twitch with a smile, but it quickly disappeared. The stranger, however, was not deterred; He shifted slightly,

"My name is Edmund," he said, but his tone started to become a little more somber, his eyes darkening with seriousness, "Do you know what a demon is?"

Nylora nodded silently, her mother had often told her stories of the Lesser and Prime evils and those who worked for them. She had been warned away from ever associating with such creatures for all they wanted was to doom mankind. Edmund gave a small nod before continuing,

"Demons will always infect our world, causing pain and destruction in their wake. I'm part of an order that's sworn to combat the demons where they hide. I've come across a village within the last day that was completely overrun by the foul creatures, and no sooner than I finish eradicating them I find you only a few miles away."

Edmund sighed, suddenly looking old and weary. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, and then their eyes met. Nylora knew he was no fool, he knew she was from that village he had described, and she knew she was the only survivor. A silent understanding passed between the two as they observed one another.

She was alone now, with no home to go back to. An orphan in a cruel and dangerous world.

Then, Edmund stood, stretching his arms out as several of his bones popped. He groaned in relief,

"Well," he said as he began to kick dirt over the fire, "If you have nowhere else to go then you could always come with me." He quickly shouldered his pack and crossbow, before spinning slightly on his heels. He looked back at her one more time before setting off, "But the choice is up to you, chatterbox."

She watched him walk away for a long moment until she suddenly sprang to her feet. She ran to him as fast as she could, easily falling into stride behind him. He didn't have to look back to know that she had followed, and before they crested the first hill she graced him with a single word,

"Nylora."

Edmund chuckled a bit, "I think I liked Chatterbox better," and he laughed at the scowl her received.

* * *

**_A/N: My first attempt at a Diablo fanfiction, this follows the third game and will include Reaper of Souls when I get around to playing. Until, a fantastic retelling of the game, with my own twists and my OC Nylora._**

**_CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM in your reviews, if you ever decide to leave any, would be deeply appreciated._**

**_PathlessSpore_**


	2. Doing Time

The Hunter  
Diablo Fanfiction  
Imperius/OC  
Adventure/Family/Hurt/Comfort  
Chapter 2  
Doing Time

_The lives of some men  
If walls could talk to spill the lies  
We'd see the world through devil's eyes_

_Doing Time – Avenged Sevenfold_

* * *

Nylora's feet hit the ground with a loud thud, her legs absorbing the shock of the landing. She looked up from the cliff she had just descended from, then towards the little village spread out below her. It had been one weeks since she had heard the reports of the Falling Star, and the dead it had awoken in its wake. The air reeked of the scent of rotting corpses, faint moans of the walking dead could be heard farther along the road.

New Tristram, she mused silently allowing her feet to carry along the cliff road towards the village gates, it seemed that the people could not escape the curse that hung over the land. The dead she met along the road were quickly dealt with and soon she walked among the scattered corpses of men and other creatures to what seemed like a man in charge.

"I am here for the Fallen Star." She said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper and holding a slight hiss. Nylora did not like talking to other people, but due to her line of work it was often required. The young man shook his head,

"It fell on the old cathedral outside of town, Leah was the only survivor."

"Where is she?"

The Captain opened his mouth to tell her, but noises from behind caught their attention. Suddenly the men stood at the ready, shaking in their boots. The dead stumbled out from the woods, decayed and half eaten,

"I can't let you in while these things are crawling about, defend the gate!" the Captain yelled as he clumsily swung his sword, lodging the steel into a corpses head. Nylora spun on her heel, aimed her crossbow, and let the arrow fly true into the body of another enemy. Within seconds she had turned it into a pin cushion, doing the same to the next two.

Then, everything went quiet, the only sound was the heavy breathing of the guards as they realized they had survived another onslaught.

"I've…" mumbled the Captain as he dug the blade of his sword into the dirt to lean upon it, "I've never seen anyone fight like you do. Who are you?"

"Does it matter?" replied Nylora coldly, the man narrowed his eyes,

"I have to think of the safety of the villagers," he said, the huntress simply snorted,

"If I wanted to kill you, you'd already be dead." The men visibly stiffened, but Nylora held up her hand, causing them to still, "But if it will ease your conscious then know that I am a Huntress from the Black Hand."

One soldier spat at the name, cursing under his breath, "Demon Hunters," he muttered, "Just what we needed."

The Captain simply shook his head and stood to sheathe his sword, "I'll not turn away help when it's offered, even if it's from your kind." He gave a flick of his wrist and the wooden gates opened with a groan, "You'll find Leah at the slaughtered calf inn."

With a silent nod she slipped past him and through the gates. Her nose cringed at the acrid smell of burning bodies and her eyes flickered to the large pile as men threw in body after body. She didn't stay to watch thus followed the road until she came to the town square. A priest from the Church of Zakarum shouted mantra's from their book, telling all who could listen that it was the end of the world.

People hunched their shoulders at his words, looking away from him as he continued to rant,

"Zakarum has fallen into disgrace, it is the end times-!"

"Enough!" snapped Nylora, people paused to look as the Huntress confronted the priest. The white haired man was taken aback at her outburst, "You shout of the End Times incessantly to these people, as if they cannot see with their own eyes. They see and they know, there is no need to trouble them further."

"If it truly is the end of our world then they must repent for their sins, they must accept the light-"

"Shouting at them so will do nothing but drive them away," admonished Nylora, arms crossed, "You are priest, yes? Is it not your duty to be the anchor of faith for your people, to give them strength to face the end instead of scaring them?"

"You…" the old man dipped his head, "You shame me."

Nylora nodded her head, sure that the old priest wasn't going to cause a fuss she turned on her heel. A mere few steps away a young woman with a child clinging to her dress took her by the arm,

"Thank you," she whispered, "He'd been scaring the children for days."

"He had forgotten his duties in light of this destruction," replied Nylora, "I simply reminded him of it."

"In any case, thank you again."

When she was finally free, Nylora quickly found the inn. It was warm inside, a sharp contrast to the cold night outside. The low mutter of people talking filled the room as she looked around, looking for someone who looked like a "Leah". Her boots clicked methodically against the floor as she stepped further in, and she paused to examine the wounded.

Nylora narrowed her eyes, she was a well-trained Demon Hunter and she knew the signs of the "Infected." Immediately she drew her crossbow and turned it on crying man,

"What are you doing?" Came an indignant cry, her arms was pulled back by a young woman with short brown hair. Nylora easily broke free and scowled,

"They are infected," she snapped, "It is a mercy to kill them before they turn."

"You don't know that their infected," shouted the woman, still struggling to try and take away her crossbow, "We could still save them!"

Unamused by her optimism, the huntress snatched foolish woman by the arm and forced her kneel next to the closest victim,

"Look and observe," she pointed out a bite, the saliva of the creature that bit the poor woman had worked its way inside her body. It left black streaks of corruption on her skin, "She will turn if nothing is done, and what of him?" She indicated to the poor child writhing in pain.

"We can still save him…"

"Then you would rather see him suffer?"

The Inn had gone quiet, everyone turned to watch. The poor young woman struggled against Nylora, "How can you just kill them? How can you look at him," angrily she pointed to the boy, "and end his life?"

"Because if nothing is done, he could infect others and the cycle of death would continue. Somewhere the chain must break," Nylora made sure the woman wasn't going to fight back before lifting her weapon and deftly putting an arrow into the boy's head. He stilled instantly and one by one the Huntress ended their misery.

When her work was done, the Inn had gone deathly still. The bartender sighed irritably under his breath, furiously wiping down the counter. Nylora looked down at the nameless woman,

"I'm looking for a woman named Leah,"

"You found her," she replied dryly, "What do you want?"

"I search for the Falling Star, I hear you were the only survivor when it fell upon the old Cathedral."

"Yeah, but the impact trapped my Uncle Deckard within the depths of the Cathedral. He's been missing for six days and we can't muster enough people to go find him. The dead will overrun us if nothing is done."

"Let me deal with the dead," said Nylora quietly, Leah nodded,

"If you really want to help, talk to Captain Rumford at the gate and see what you can do about the attacks."

With nod goodbye the Huntress left the young woman in the inn and stepped out into the cool night. She pulled her cloak closer around her shoulders and met with a nearby merchant. She decided before parting into possibly dangerous areas of the region, stocking up on potions and updating her equipment would be wise.

When she was ready, Nylora ran to the town gate and found the young Captain right where he should have been.

"I wish to help turn the tide against the dead." She said quietly as she stepped in front of him. The young man gave her a quizzical stare before wearily shrugging his shoulders,

"I have seen you fight," he admitted, "But even I don't know what you could do-"

"Captain Rumford!" a lookout from the nearby tower pointed off towards a barricade, "The dead are breaking through the barricade!"

The fight that followed was a difficult, as the dead kept increasing in number no matter how many she put down. Eventually she saw the source of the problem, a zombie woman kept retching up cadavers, adding to their problems. Nylora, however, made quick work of the undead woman and her underlings soon followed after her.

"That's a Wretched Mother," said Captain Rumford as he stood beside Nylora, observing the corpse, "They're the ones that keep making more of the dead. If you really want to help there should be more of them on the road ahead."

"Very well," muttered the Huntress, her boots taking her down the rough path without so much as a backwards glance while she disappeared into the moonlit night.

* * *

_**A/N: As I said I've added my own twists. As Demon Hunter Nylora would be well adept at recognizing corruption in infected people, such as those seen at the inn. Being who she is, I very much doubted Nylora would have let those people live long enough to turn.**_

_**Obviously this is going to cause some tension between certain party members, but that's kind of the whole point.**_

_**Anywho, CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM would be deeply appreciated.**_

_**PathlessSpore**_


	3. Lost

The Hunter  
Diablo Fanfiction  
Imperius/OC  
Adventure/Family/Hurt/Comfort  
Chapter 3  
Lost

_We've all been lost for most of this life_  
_Everywhere we turn more hatred surrounds us_  
_And I know that most of us just ain't right_  
_Following the wrong steps, being led by pride_

_Lost - Avenged Sevenfold_

* * *

The moon shone brightly against the pitch black sky, the stars its twinkling companions. Its light bathed the Tristram countryside in an eerie glow as the breeze whistled through the trees. The dirt beneath her boots crunched methodically with her steps until Nylora came to a sudden stop. Above the moans of the wind she heard more.

On the road ahead she spied four or five undead devouring the corpse of an unfortunate soul who could not escape his demise. As she was observing them the wind shifted taking her scent towards the walking corpses. They stopped their feast, lifting their noses to the sky. They hissed and moaned, stumbling to their feet as they turned towards her. Nylora clenched her crossbow tightly in her hands before lifting it easily to throw an arrow into the head of a nearby enemy.

In moments like this, where her body moved on its own with practiced ease, she tended to let her mind wander.

* * *

Edmunds strides were much longer than hers and Nylora often found herself running to keep up with the large man. A task made more difficult due to the man's unimaginably heavy pack. She grumbled under her breath as she shouldered the bag again so the strap didn't dig into her already sore muscles. They had been walking for three days stopping only to eat and sleep. Where they were going, Edmund wouldn't say but Nylora didn't really ask either. There was no real conversation between the pair; Edmund asked questions and received non-committal grunts or sighs in return.

"Tell me, Chatterbox, just how old are you?"

Nylora looked up at the grizzled man; he looked down at her then and gave her that lopsided grin of his. She considered not answering him for moment, but thought better of it,

"Eleven."

Edmund huffed, his eyes staring off into the distance. They had reached the edges of a desert just yesterday and were now passing the last of green wilderness. The sun beat down on them mercilessly though it was still early in the morning. Abruptly, the large man halted and shed his cloak. He wore a short sleeve tunic underneath, baring his well toned and tanned arms, and with an easy show of strength he took the large cloth and ripped it in half.

He bent down next to her then, wrapping the cloth around her head to shield her face from the heat. He did the same to himself with the other half, and afterwards liberated his pack from Nylora. He reached inside to procure a water skin and tied it to his waist,

"We'll have to take it easy from here on out, I only have so much water and it's quite a ways to Caldeum. When you do need a drink take only what you need, we have to make it last."

She nodded silently, and without another word the pair set off into the blistering desert.

* * *

The last Wretched Mother died with a shrill scream as an arrow ripped through her throat. Nine years had passed since she was that little eleven year old girl, scarred from having to watch her village burn and her mother die deep within the wilderness of Scosglen. As she thought back to her younger self Nylora scoffed at how weak she had been. It was because of that weakness she had been unable to save what she held most dear to her.

The Huntress scoured the last corners of the country side, checking the nearby cellars and basements for the undead she had missed. Eventually she crested the hill and took her first steps into Old Tristram. A cold chill ran down her spine as her eyes scoured the ruined buildings; even after all these years it seemed that Diablo's dark shadow still hung over this place.

It was here where the Lord of Terror had first corrupted mankind, and it was here that Deckard Cain himself had been imprisoned. Nylora stopped to observe the broken remnants of the cage that had once held the old man.

Then, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

She gasped and turned swiftly on her heels, stopping a Wretched Mother from sinking her teeth into her neck. Nylora grunted as she struggled against the creature, surprised by its sheer strength; this was much no ordinary undead that much was certain.

She managed to throw off the Wretched Mother and quickly backed a few paces, taking her heavy crossbow in hand. It was a bulky thing, requiring two hands to use, but it usually got the job done. Nylora breathed a sigh of relief as a heavy arrow lodged itself into the Mother's head. She died with a groan, and without wasting time the Huntress turned and began to scour the rest of the town.

At the end of her hunt Nylora spied an ancient device imbedded into the dirt. As soon as she stepped upon it, it activated with a reverberating boom.

A waypoint, a tool installed by the earliest Horadrim to ease the pains of traveling across Sanctuary.

After a moment of thought she closed her eyes, and in her mind's eye she imagined New Tristram. With a sudden rush of immense arcane power she materialized back within the town. The little village had finally settled down for the night; guards patrolled the edge of town as the soft glow of candles lit the windows of houses. Not far away Captain Rumford talked with Leah and Nylora wasted no time bringing the young man the good news.

"The attacks by the undead should cease now." She said softly as she came to the pair's side. The Captain heaved a sigh of relief,

"That eases my burden greatly, but please, could you convince Leah that searching for her Uncle is a lost cause."

"It is not a lost cause!" snapped the woman hotly; her eyes flashing dangerously, Captain Rumford shook his head,

"Leah, it's been six days," he said, "Even if Deckard did survive the impact of the Star, there is no way he would have lasted this long."

"He speaks the truth, Leah," the Huntress interjected, "Do not fill your heart with false hope when there is none to be found."

The brown haired woman gave a frustrated growl, her hands clenched into tight fists. Fuming she stomped past Nylora and strode over to the waypoint,

"If you won't look for him, I will!"

And with a brilliant flash of light, she was gone.

"Damn it all, you have to go after her." The Demon Hunter cocked a brow at the young captain,

"Do I?"

"You want into the cathedral? Then you'll have to get the key; Captain Dalton, the former guardsmen, locked the doors to the cursed place to stem the tide of undead. Unfortunately they were overrun near Adria's hut, the former home a woman who lived near here. You'll most likely find his corpse and the key there."

"And Leah?"

"Even you should know it's not safe for anyone to go out alone."

With a smirk and a huff, the Huntress nodded and she too turned on her heels to use the waypoint. When she arrived back in Old Tristram, the nearby gate had been unlocked. Sure that Leah had followed the path she took off running after her.

The young woman hadn't gotten far.

"What are you doing here?"

"I told you," Nylora replied simply, "I am here for the Fallen Star, you are going to the Cathedral and therefore are of some use to me."

"So you're not here to help me find my uncle?" she accused dryly, their boots crunching against the ground,

"Do not misunderstand me," admonished Nylora, "Your Uncle's plight is tragic, but the odds of him surviving within the depths of the Cathedral are very low, at best."

"I can't just give up-" interjected Leah hotly, turning her head to glare back at the Huntress, who simply shook her head,

"I'm not saying that, I'm just saying don't get your hopes up."

It was silent for a long time afterwards. As the pair traveled down the road Nylora felt her mind wander again.

* * *

Nylora promised herself that if she lived through this ordeal she'd never set foot in any desert ever. Sweat covered every inch of her skin as she struggled to breathe in the blistering heat. There was no in between in this region, the days were hot and the nights unbearably cold; it also didn't help that Edmund had gotten them hopelessly lost.

She heard the hunter curse under his breath; they had found an outcropping of rocks and had taken shelter in the shade it offered. Currently the large man was looking at the map, and taking stock on their supply of water, which was dwindling fast. He grumbled for a moment, a look of concern flashing across his eyes.

Though she couldn't see his face hidden by the cloth hood he had made them, she knew he was worried. Then his unease was gone, his green eyes twinkling at her again,

"I think I might know where we may be."

She huffed at him and his poor choice of words. Edmund threw his hands up in defense and laughed at her,

"Hey now, it could be much worse. We could be out of water and slowly dying of starvation. Considering other possible situations I think we're doing well."

He packed up the map and slung his bag over his shoulder. He holstered his large heavy crossbow to his back, and with a wave of his hand motioned for her to follow along.

And once again they set off into the burning sun.

But they didn't get very far. Edmund stopped dead in his tracks and cursed inventively as he eyed the horizon. Nylora's eyes bulged at the huge wall of wind and sand in the distance, quickly bearing down upon them. Panic rose up in her chest, they were totally unprepared for something like this and it hastily plunged their odds of survival within the single digits.

Nylora's eyes hurriedly darted to her surroundings, and they fell on an open crevice. Incessantly she tugged on Edmund's hand.

"What-" she pointed to the opening in the rocks and a sigh of relief heaved from his chest, "Thank Akarat," he said as they swiftly ducked in. Within minutes the sandstorm was howling outside as Edmund lead them further in. He held a glowing medallion in his hand and its light illuminated much of the cave.

"There's no telling what else is in here," said the large man as he set his pack down and slid down the cave wall to sit, "So don't go wandering off on your own."

Nylora nodded and sat opposite of him; seconds turned to minutes, and then to hours. She listened to the wind outside, and to the occasional scuffle inside the cave itself, and soon enough Edmund's snores followed. Eventually even her body fell into a relaxed state; she yawned as her eyes grew heavy and as the howling of wind lulled her into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

"Adria's hut," muttered Leah as they came upon a hovel that was slowly falling apart. They walked inside, kicking up dust among the ruined furniture, "Adria was my mother but I don't know much about her. She died when I was very young. Uncle Deckard was the one who raised me."

"What of your father?" inquired Nylora as she bent down to search along the floor for anything useful,

"All I know is that he was a powerful warrior who as lost when Tristram fell to the demons."

The Huntress huffed at that; she understood Leah more than others. Her mother had raised her for much of her life, until she was killed by demons. As she grew up, Cassandra Everglean had told stories of her father.

He was a powerful warrior, a general to a large army who sought to eradicate the demons. When her mother had first met him, he had been gravely wounded from a battle. Cassandra was a great healer, but even with her skills she needed time to nurse him back to full health. At first, her father had not been pleased to receive aid from someone he deemed weaker than he, but as time passed they became closer.

When the time came for him to return to his army he had suggested that he could stay. He would abandon his men and his responsibilities just to spend the rest of his life Nylora's mother.

Her mother knew she could never ask that of him, and with a heavy heart she sent him away knowing that she's likely never see him again.

He left behind a memento for her that day, an intricate medallion bearing his symbol upon the metal. A gift that Cassandra had given to their daughter, an unexpected surprise but loved nonetheless; and her mother told her should she ever feel the world's weight bearing down upon her, she need only find the strength to continue on in her father's keepsake.

Once, Cassandra had hinted that Nylora's conception hadn't been exactly normal. But once she questioned it, her mother had laughed at her and told her that she was as normal as any other child. But the young girl had seen the truth in her mother's eyes, she wasn't normal and she would never be.

A surprised gasp left Nylora's lips, while searching the floor her finger nails had found the edge of a trapdoor hidden mostly by debris,

"A trapdoor?" Leah helped her lift the heavy wood and carefully the duo climbed down the rotten ladder. They followed the narrow path further into the underground cavern until they came upon the ruined hovel of what looked like a witch's home,

"You're mother had her secrets," noted Nylora as she walked around the large, broken cauldron and peered in,

"People said my mother was a witch, but I never believed them."

"You have a hard time believing anything anyone says." Reprimanded the Huntress, Leah sighed at the nearby table full of books,

"For some things, I need to see the proof for myself."

"That's understandable," admitted Nylora, it earned her an amused huff,

"You're agreeing to something I said? Maybe you're not so bad after all."

The Huntress laughed coldly, "I'm not unreasonable, Leah, just realistic."

Conversation ceased as the familiar moan of rising dead caught their attention. They spun around to find the disturbance and watched as newly turned fought their way to the surface of the cave floor. Standing to their full height Nylora readied her crossbow, turning it to the one dressed in guardsmen armor,

"Captain Dalton!"

"I was wondering where your body crawled off to," snarled the Huntress. Skeletons swarmed them as a bone chilling aura radiated off of the deceased Captain. Alone, the battle would have been difficult, but Leah's expertise in archery quickly picked off the lesser minions as Nylora dealt with Dalton, or what was left of him.

He died again with a hiss, and his body wasn't on the ground a few seconds before she picked it for the key.

"I have the key to eh Cathedral, let's go—"

Leah was pouring over a book when the Huntress turned to her. The young woman looked up at her, her eyes pleading softly,

"These are my mother's journals," she said quietly. A moment of silence passed between the two until Nylora gave a nod,

"Very well, stay here and look through your mother's things. Perhaps you'll find something of use here."

Leah smiled, "Thank You, and while in the Cathedral, please keep an eye out for my Uncle."

"If I find him, whether he is alive or a corpse, I will bring him to New Tristram as quickly as I can."

With a nod goodbye, Nylora left Leah to her own devices and climbed the rotten ladder to the surface. When she was breathing in fresh air, she wasted no time setting off into the distance. And the silence settled in once again.

* * *

Nylora fell to her knees, her mouth dry and her head spinning. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest as she struggled to think straight. Five days in this desert hell and they were on the last bit of their water. Strong arms picked her up and held her against a firm chest; Edmund cursed loudly as Nylora's head lolled to the side. Suddenly the water skin was pushed into her face as his other hand forced her to open her jaws.

Nylora struggled against the hunter as he poured the last of the water into her mouth.

"Come on now," muttered Edmund as he continued walking with her in his arms, "I don't need it as much as you do, besides we should reach Caldeum by sundown and when we get to an inn we'll get whatever you want to eat."

The little girl didn't answer; she felt weak and lightheaded; she watched Edmund as the blue sky passed, fading in and out of consciousness. She was ungodly hot, and not matter how much she sweated she couldn't seem to cool down.

Seconds passed like hours, and the hours like years. And as the sun set on the day, even Edmund was starting to struggle. His breathing was heavy as the last of the light faded over the horizon. His legs buckled under his weight and it took the last of his effort not to drop Nylora as he fell to his knees.

"Just a little more, Chatterbox," he said hoarsely as he pushed himself up and climbed the sand dune. He huffed as he crested it and Nylora saw with half lidded eyes as he gave a laugh of relief,

"See?" he said as he pushed onwards with renewed vigor, stumbling down the dune towards the distant lights, "I told you I knew where we were." He shouted into the distance, waving his arms for someone to come and help them. The world blurred with movement as she was taken from Edmund's arms and rushed into the city, soon after she lost consciousness.

When she next woke up she was surprised. Nylora half expected to be dead, but instead she lay on a comfortable bed, staring up at a ceiling. She rubbed her forehead, still foggy from her deep sleep,

"Hey there," Nylora sat up carefully and looked towards the door; Edmund held a bowl of food in his hands and he gave it to her as he sat in the chair next to her bed, "I figured you might be hungry." He watched as she ate, filling her growling stomach with the meaty soup. Silently she handed the bowl back over to him, to which he gazed at for a long tense moment,

"I wanted to apologize," he said suddenly, looking up at her. He wasn't hearing his hood so she could see his green eyes gazing at her sorrowfully. He had short brown hair with streaks of gray filled in. His strong, grizzled jaw tensed as he looked back down at the bowl,

"I put you in danger because of my carelessness; you trusted me to keep you alive and I nearly got you killed. I'm sorry."

Nylora observed him for a moment, "Considering other possible situations I think we're doing well." She quoted softly, earning her a booming laugh from Edmund. He looked up at her, giving her a lopsided grin and his eyes twinkling,

"I guess that's true. In any case you should rest for a bit; tomorrow I'll take you to see the sights before we leave with the Caravan going to Lut Gholen. Afterwards we head north towards the Dreadlands; The Black Hand is based there and it's where I'm taking you."

Nylora nodded as she settled back down, pulling the covers around her shoulders as she lay on her side. She listened as Edmund went rifling through his pack for something, when he settled down his even breathing lulled her into a peaceful sleep.

* * *

The Huntress gazed up at the cathedral, a towering and ancient structure that seemed to reach the sky itself. It was here that so much evil had taken root, and it was here the Fallen Star had impacted. She would the answers she was looking for at the crater.

Instinctively she reached for the Medallion that usually hung around her neck. Her fingers met her empty skin, and she gave inward sigh as she remembered she had left it behind. So instead she unlocked the Church doors and clutched the heavy crossbow in her arms for strength and good luck.

Because as she looked down at the open crevice the Star had made, she knew she was going to need it.

And before she could second guess herself, Nylora steeled her courage and jumped into the depths below.

* * *

_**A/N: Chapter three, yay. I worked quite a bit on this one, so CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM would be much appreciated.**_

_**To which I would like to thank ScarletSecrets1234 for taking the time out of her day to leave me, insightful reviews. **_

_**PathlessSpore**_


	4. Heretic

The Hunter  
Diablo Fanfiction  
Imperius/OC  
Family/Adventure/Hurt/Comfort  
Chapter 4  
Heretic

_My flesh will feed the demon,  
No trial, no case for reason.  
I've been chosen to pay with my life._

_Mad men define what mad is,  
Turning witches and saints to ashes.  
Rising masses marching to find,  
Heretic blood._

_Heretic – Avenged Sevenfold_

* * *

Nylora hit the ground hard with grunt, and she tensed in that position for a moment. She strained her ears listening for any signs of life, or unlife for that matter. When she was sure she was alone she carefully stood and let her eyes adjust to the stark darkness.

The Star had fallen at an angle, dropping her off at far from her intended destination. However, she knew that if she had taken the Meteor's path all the way down she likely would have been killed upon impact. While picking her way through the ancient stonework and through the corpses would take more time, it was better than the latter option. It took her only mere seconds to find the path of the Star, and as she stood at its edge she beheld it with awe.

This thing, whatever it was, it was powerful; so potent that it could wake the dead from their slumber from its catastrophic impact. Nylora needed to get to the bottom of this event, for the sake of the townspeople.

And she was wasting time; she picked her way down the stairs and past the Star's path, a blue glowing liquid flowing down the cracks. Her first encounter with the creatures in the church was just past the first set of pews. They were feasting on a corpse greedily, unaware of the Huntress that stalked them. It was a fairly large group and not one she was keen to taking on her own. She eyed her surroundings and spotted a weak wall held up by boards.

Taking special care not to bring attention to herself she raised her crossbow, took a deep breath, and shot. The arrow landed with a loud thwack, easily knocking the board aside and sending the wall tumbling down. The undead were to slow to react and were crushed under the debris. With a smirk of triumph the Huntress waded deeper into the Cathedral depths.

The halls were swimming with undead and pests alike. While her training had prepared her for situations like this, she was not used to dealing with hordes of this magnitude.

* * *

Edmund allowed Nylora to gaze upon the ancient stone structure in wonder. Its black spires seemed to reach the sky, darkened with clouds that spewed ash. The girl assumed that it had been an expansive church at some point, before the land had taken a turn for the worst, but the Demon Hunters had taken it and fortified its defenses greatly.

And beyond it lay the Dreadlands.

They walked through a wrought iron gate and the wall on both sides seemed to stretch on into forever. The courtyard had long since died, the dry grass crunching beneath their feet as they strode up the stone steps and through the old oak door. It moaned as it shut, engulfing the main hall in darkness save for the flickering of what few torches sat lit upon the wall.

Old tapestries hung in various places, depicting fierce battles and intricate emblems upon the stitching. At the head of the hall sat another door, strong and barred shut,

"You won't be going in there for a long time, Chatterbox," said Edmund softly, as he took a door to their right, "Only senior Hunters are allowed into the Elder's Chamber." The narrow hall had doors spanning its length on both sides, but the Hunter just kept walking. At the end he ushered her through yet another door and into a different courtyard. Nylora could feel eyes on her as they walked, immediately she flicked her gaze to the dark windows but saw nothing there.

"They're always interested in potential initiates," said Edmund quietly, "They'll try and break you, turn you into someone you're not; they'll even make bets to see who can hurt you the most, like it's some game. Sick bastards."

Nylora wasn't sure she wanted to know what he was talking about, a nervous feeling settled in her gut as he pushed her inside yet again. They had come into an antechamber of sorts; Edmund sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose muttering under his breath. Then, he turned to face her,

"Stay here, Chatterbox, I'm going to get someone, alright?" As he walked away and opened the door he looked back at her, worry flashing across his features, "Don't talk to anyone until I get back, clear?"

She nodded and with that the door snapped shut.

The room was fairly large, four pillars held up the ceiling with sconces providing some light. A painting hung on each wall, one more gruesome then the last. Nylora shuddered and sat against the nearest pillar, watching the door nervously.

Minutes ticked away and Edmund still had yet to return, the anxious feeling in her gut had yet to abate and when the door opened suddenly she nearly jumped out of her skin.

But instead of Edmund she watched as an older, thin woman walked in and closed the door with a firm snap. Her head was covered by a hood, but Nylora could see that her eyes glowed with an eerie and evil green light. Her mouth was set into a firm malevolent smirk as she gazed upon the girl.

"So, you must be the one Edmund brought in," she said softly, her voice holding a hint of danger, "Very interesting, it's not every day we get new recruits. Tell me child, what is your name?"

Nylora said nothing, gold eyes staring at her defiantly. The woman frowned, her lithe arms crossing as she walked across the floor. Her boots clicked methodically against the stone as her armor rustled with her graceful and deadly movements. Soon, she towered over the girl, her glare filled with venom,

"I don't take kindly to being ignored, child, now I won't ask you again-"

"Nonda!"

Nylora jumped yet again and her eyes swiveled to Edmund standing in the doorway. His sharp features were set into a fierce snarl, his green eyes narrowed. Behind him a younger woman stood with her arms crossed, her face covered by a hood as well. In a flash the Hunter had placed himself between her and the older woman, snarling at her all the while,

"Is there a reason you're here?" he snapped, his voice low and menacing.

"I was just interested in our young guest Edmund, no need to be so upset." She replied coolly, backing away from him ever so slightly,

"Don't play coy with me, you've no business here. Now I suggest you leave."

"Of course, I meant no offense." She turned smoothly on her heel, slipping past the Huntress at the door. With a final smirk she turned back, "I'm looking forward to seeing how long she lasts." She was gone with a cruel laugh echoing in her wake.

"Witch!" hissed Edmund as he snarled at the door. With a huff he turned to Nylora, shooting her his lopsided grin. The other woman walked to his side and stared at her, not saying a word, "This Jatherine, Chatterbox, she's a friend."

The girl and the woman stared at each other; the Huntress had a kindness about her, hidden underneath a weary façade. Her gaze had a resigned look as her expression became sad.

"She has the innate talent," Jatherine said with a heavy sigh, "Nylora is it?" The girl nodded, "Do you want to fight demons?"

She was taken aback by the question, while traveling with Edmund she never really had thought about it before. She had just simply followed him because he had been there when her village was destroyed, and she had nowhere else to go.

If she said no?

They'd most likely take her take her to the nearest settlement or caravan and leave her there. And she found she couldn't bear the thought of being away from Edmund. So she gave Jatherine a nod of her head, and she swore she saw disappointment flash across her features.

"Very well then, come with me."

* * *

Nylora was covered in blood, gore, and other things she wasn't even sure of by the time she found a way into the lower levels. She cursed at her carelessness, she should have figured that the bloated and gorged undead had some sort of defense mechanism that triggered upon death.

And the bats were absolute pests.

The Huntress wiped most of the stomach fluid from her face with a grumble, taking the stairs down into the passage below. The steps stretched on for a bit until a light appeared and ushered her into a new room. It was a large expanse, stairs leading down further in. At the far end a door sat ancient, firmly closed, and looked as if it hadn't been open for ages.

Just as she was about to go and investigate the ground underneath her feet began to shake violently. Debris fell from the ceiling as Nylora lost her balance, dazed she looked towards a small passage to her right and to her surprise a wizened man came running through. He considered the bridge between him and the open floor before quickly deciding that falling would have been a better fate than the skeletons coming up behind him.

She struggled to her feet as the man crossed the bridge, the bone warriors that followed were too much for the bridge to bear and it crumbled beneath them, plunging them to their doom.

Then from the darkness of the abyss a creature rose. Nylora gasped as the air left her lungs, stunned she watched as a skeleton wearing ancient battle armor and a crown summoned hordes of undead. Without so much as a second thought she threw herself down the stairs just as the Skeleton King departed, leaving her to deal with the bones he had left in his wake.

They quickly overwhelmed her. The old man could do only so much, and Nylora was only one person. Panic rose in her chest, something she did not often feel in times of duress, and with the panic something else ignited. As she dodged and parried incoming blows she a felt a white fire burn in her chest, stealing her breath and nearly blinding her as it consumed her energy.

She threw her head back with a scream as it became too much to hold in.

A brilliant white light erupted from her body, destroying the skeletons that surrounded her and the innocent man. They screamed in rage and pain as the white fire burned through their bones until they crumpled to the floor and turned to ash.

Nylora fell to her knees, the urge the weep nearly overpowering. She shivered violently, her hands braced against the floor in an effort to control herself.

This strange power, it was something that she always had and never learned to fully control.

"Child?" A comforting hand gripped her shoulder firmly; she looked up to the old man with kind eyes. She felt herself become lost in them, in eyes that confirmed his age and wisdom. He had a long white beard, hiding the hint of a smile while his other hand gripped his cane.

"Are you alright, child?"

Wordlessly she nodded, her heart returning to its regular rhythm. Shakily she stood on her own two feet,

"You must be Deckard Cain;" she said softly, "Leah has been worried about you."

His already kind features softened more at the name, "Leah, it is good to hear that she is well. But let us return to Tristram, my dear. We have much to discuss."

She followed him as he walked to a nearby bookcase and pulled on one of the ancient texts. The shelf shifted back and slid into the wall, revealing a secret passage,

"I discovered this passage from old texts here in the Cathedral," Explained Cain as he led them in, "This will lead us back outside. Tell me, young one, what is your name?"

"You may call me Nylora." The Huntress replied softly, checking their rear to make sure nothing was coming up behind them, "I am a huntress from the Black Hand."

"A demon hunter?"

She nodded half expecting the mistrustful looks that usually came along with her chosen profession; Cain surprised her, however, when he smiled at her,

"That is an intriguing occupation you've chosen, my dear, I assume most do not look kindly upon your people."

"For good reasons." She said, earning her a chuckle,

"Yes, not all Demon Hunters can resist the darkness that calls to them. I'm sure you've witnessed the fall of most of your own brethren. But you are very interesting indeed."

They eventually came outside, and Nylora took in a breath of fresh air. The stars still shone brightly against the night sky with the moon as their companion. Deckard led them to a small waypoint in the middle of the Cathedral garden, and without hesitation she followed him through.

"Uncle!" Leah ran to Deckard throwing her arms around him in a loving embrace; tears fell down her cheeks as Cain did his best to calm her, "Oh, Uncle I knew you were alive."

"Yes, Leah, and it is all thanks to Nylora."

She didn't know what to do with the attention Deckard put upon her, because she certainly wasn't used to it.

But right now, she had bigger problems.

While she had kept her promise to Leah, a creature known as the Skeleton King stood between her and the Fallen Star. She could not allow such an abomination to walk Sanctuary.

And Deckard Cain agreed.

"But before we discuss what to do with Mad King Leoric, you and I need to talk." Cain grasped her hand and tugged her towards a house next to the inn. He ushered her in and shut the door behind them. The house had a nice homey feel to it; books covered most of the tables and much of the floor. Within a few moments Cain even had a fire going.

"Sit, my child." He pointed to a nearby chair, to which she dutifully filled,

"Is there something wrong, Cain?"

"Not that I have seen, I am merely curious as to why an Angel would go so far to help one little town."

Nylora jumped at the statement, her eyes nearly popping out of her head, "What?"

"No need to play coy, my dear, I knew what you were the moment you loosed your powers. I've spent some time among your kind; you're obviously younger than most Angels I've met, else you'd have learned how to control and direct your holy light."

Nylora gave him a dumbfounded look, "I know not what you mean; I was born in a small village in the forests of Scosglen, when demons raided my home I was taken to the Dreadlands and trained as a Demon Hunter. I am no Angel."

Deckard hummed softly, a thoughtful look upon his wizened features, "If what you say is true, then there is more to you than I thought. When did your powers start to manifest?"

"When I was young; I could never fully control it, else I'd saved my village the day the demons came. I could have saved…."

"Yes?"

Nylora shook her head, "It's nothing; my powers have been a burden since the day I was born, the only way I knew how to keep it in check was to reign in my emotions. When we were surrounded I slipped and let myself panic."

"I see," Deckard seemed disappointed, Nylora wished she could give him more answers but she was just as confused as he, "Now onto the matters of the Skeleton King."

"I know who he was in his past life," said the huntress, "But what more can you tell me?"

"He was once our beloved King, driven mad by Diablo's evil. He lost both his sons - and his very soul – before he was finally defeated. Now it seems he's risen to plague this land once again."

"It's a tragic story, but he is the only thing that stands between me and the Fallen Star."

"The door to the lower levels, where the body of the King lies, is locked. I believe the blacksmith Headrig Eamon can help you; his grandfather was chancellor to the king."

"Very well then." Nylora dipped her head in thanks and stood to leave, just as she was about to walk through the door, Cain's voice stopped her in her tracks,

"I did not lie when I said there was something special about you, child, perhaps in time you will find the answers you seek. But tell me this, why have you come out all this way? Surely, the fate of a small town often plagued by evil is of no concern to you?"

Nylora braced a hand on the threshold and closed her eyes. She listened to the beat of her heart for a moment before she looked back at Deckard,

"I am here because I am willing to do what it takes to protect those I care about."

The old Horadric Monk gazed at her for a long time before nodding in silence; and with that he allowed Nylora to leave.

* * *

"Damn it Edmund, what in the Burning Hells were you thinking?!"

"I don't know, alright?"

Nylora sat with her back against the wall, hidden in a dark crevice. Edmund and Jatherine had escorted her to her room and abruptly left. Curious she quietly followed them down the hall and through a door to a large mess hall. A fire burned brightly at the head of the room, casting dancing shadows across the floor and walls.

They were arguing, the huntress pacing as Edmund sat hunched over with his face in his hands. Nylora watched as Jatherine scoffed irritably and cuffed her partner roughly,

"Why, why bring her here? Do you realize what will happen to her if she's assigned to one _them?!_"

"I know!" snapped Edmund, looking up at the huntress fiercely, "I should have left her in Lut Gholen, or Tristram, fuck anywhere but here!"

"Then why didn't you!?"

"I don't know, maybe it was because she was alone and I felt bad for her. Maybe it was because she depended on me, or maybe it's because I actually grew fond Nylora."

"Akarat, you actually bothered to learn her name."

It was quiet for a long time between the two before Jatherine sighed, "There's nothing we can do about it now except make sure she's prepared enough for this."

Nylora stiffened as the huntress shook her head in defeat and left the room, passing the girl's hiding spot. She breathed a silent sigh of relief, but it wasn't as long lived as she would have liked,

"You can come out now."

Swallowing she stood up and slunk out of the dark, walking over to Edmund who still sat staring at the stone floor. Her hand twitched as she reached out to touch his shoulder, a feather light gesture that made him smile,

"I'm sorry," he said quietly as he looked up at her, green eyes sad, "I can't believe I just damned you to this." With a frown Nylora sat down next to him and without so much as a second thought she rested her head on his arm. She heard him huff in amusement, "Even after all this, you still find it in your heart to forgive me? You sure are something special, Chatterbox."

* * *

_**A/N: So yeah, reviews filled with CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM would be nice. A few favs and alerts which means you guys are actually reading this, but I like to know what you guys think of the story and you some pointers to help me out.**_

_**PathlessSpore**_


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